A Winchester Thing
by Angelustatt
Summary: Short coda for AHBL part 2. The boys deal with the aftermath of Dean's decision...


_A/N: I found this hiding on my hard drive...thought I'd share. Amen Chapter One is still in the works...I'll have it up soon. _

How the hell could the sound of someone brushing their teeth and gargling make someone happy? Dean knew the answer to that. If that sound meant the person was alive and well and in the bathroom making those noises, rather than being a still, lifeless corpse? Then that sound could make you the happiest person on the whole freaking planet.

The bathroom door opened with a small squeaking crack that indicated it had swollen up at some stage in the past and warped the frame. Sam walked out, wearing only his jeans and rubbing his hair dry with a towel. He turned his back to Dean, bent over his duffel bag and giving his brother a clear look at the ugly scar that remained from the fatal wound Sam had received.

Fatal. It sent a shiver down Dean's spine. His little brother had been dead. No more jokes, no more goofy Sam laugh that either drove Dean crazy or had him slapping his leg as he laughed himself. It had all been gone. Just like that.

Dean had watched the light go out in his brother's eyes, watched as they slid to the right instead of meeting his, felt the way his brother became so heavy. Dead weight.

Carrying him back to the Impala had been the longest walk of Dean's life and he never wanted to do it again. Sure, he'd carried Sam in the past, cut up, bleeding everywhere, half conscious or unconscious…but he'd never felt the way he did then and Dean's stomach became a ball of ice just thinking about. So he took another step towards not thinking about it, downing the last of his glass of scotch and pouring another one.

" How much of that are you planning on having?" Sam asked as he tugged a shirt over his head and spared Dean from seeing that scar any longer.

" I don't know…enough. Why? We're supposed to be celebrating, dude…we killed the Demon. Dad's…well, it looked like Dad's at rest. I think we deserve to celebrate." Dean said a little more defensively than he meant to.

" And I agree, Dean. I just want to know if I should be going and getting a couple more bottles if you're hell bent on ending up face down on the floor?" Sam asked, fixing Dean with a look he knew his brother called the bitch face.

" Sam, what's your problem? Can we just relax for the night and forget about everything?" Dean argued, draining a large amount of scotch in one swallow.

" Forget everything? Like the fact you traded your life for mine?"

Dean closed his eyes, resting his glass against his forehead as if it would soothe away the headache he'd gained from kissing a gravestone with his skull. How he didn't have a concussion was anyone's guess? " Sam…we talked about this….."

" When, Dean? When did we talk about this? At the cemetery when you tried to lie to me about it? The trip to this cheap ass motel where you sang along with Metallica and pretty much avoided anything even remotely to do with making deals with your life? Just when did we talk about it?" Sam demanded. He couldn't do this…couldn't let Dean shut him out on this. Dean of all people had to know what he was feeling right now, knowing what the price of his life was.

" I don't want to talk about it, okay? It's done. The deal's made. Your life for mine and you damn well know I'd do it again if I had to, Sam. I swore I'd protect you. I always have."

" So that's it? I'm supposed to just accept that and be happy about it? You could die, Dean! If we don't find a way out of this, you're going to Hell!" Sam was standing right in front of his brother now, towering over him as Dean looked up so calmly, Sam wanted to hit him. " I just don't understand why you had to do it? You knew….you know how it felt to know the price. I watched you after Dad died, Dean…you were coming apart at the seams and you wouldn't talk to me about it, wouldn't let me in! Now you're putting me through it and on top of that, I have to deal with the fact we have one year before you die? How do I do that? Huh? Why the hell would you put me through this?"

" 'Cause I was trying to save you, Sam!" Dean bellowed, standing up to cut down on the distance between them, regain some fighting ground.

" No, Dean, you were scared of being alone! That's all it came down to. You didn't want to be the last Winchester standing!" Sam snapped back, the pair of them now in a angry standoff, inches from each other.

Dean stood there, nostrils flaring, jaw set until his teeth began to ache. Then he turned and stalked towards the bathroom. " I'm having a shower."

" There's no hot water left."

" Fine...whatever. I'm still having one."

The door slammed and Sam was left alone. He picked up the bottle of scotch from Dean's bed, plus a spare glass from the sideboard and went back to his bed. Sitting on it cross legged, Sam poured himself a large glass, ignoring the tremble in his hands, the sting of tears in his eyes.

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An hour later, Dean came out of the bathroom to find Sam watching the cartoon channel. He cocked an eyebrow at his brother's choice of entertainment, a smirk flirting across his lips. " Dude…Muppet babies? Seriously?"

" Shut up, Dean, I know you used to watch this as much as I did."

" Did not."

" Did to…you used to sing the song in the shower. Dad thought you were high on cough medicine one night when he heard you doing all the voices." Sam quirked a smile towards his brother, the earlier animosity gone as his blood alcohol level rose.

" So that's why he got rid of the Nyquil?" Dean looked genuinely amused, sitting down on the end of Sam's bed with his own glass and pouring the dregs of the bottle into it.

" So what were you doing in there for an hour with no hot water?" Sam's brow creased with puzzlement, then smoothed out again as his eyes widened and he looked vaguely disgusted. " No wait…I don't want to know, seriously."

Dean flipped the bird at his brother as he emptied his glass, then sat it on the bed beside him. " Laugh it up, chucklehead. I'm surprised I didn't catch you watching porn."

The room became quiet for a moment, neither brother knowing what to say before Dean spoke up. " Sam, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen, man. I just couldn't bear the thought of you being gone. You're my life. You're my family….I can't do this alone."

" Yes, you can, Dean. "

Dean looked up at his brother, a smile on his lips as he recalled the last time they'd had this conversation, echoing the words he had spoken that night. " Yeah, well…I don't want to."

Sam was smiling as well then. He pulled a second bottle of scotch out from behind his pillow, his smile widening at the look on Dean's face.

" You been holding out on me, little brother?"

" Just saving it for a special occasion." Sam twisted off the lid and poured them both a drink.

" What occasion would that be?"

" Us beating the demon, closing a door on one chapter while we open another…"

Dean sniggered softly, " Alright J. K. Rowling."

" Funny, dude, I'm surprised you know her name." Sam said, genuinely impressed.

" Her? Rowling's a chick? Huh…" Dean grunted softly, frowning slightly as Sam laughed. " What?"

" Nothing, dude…" Sam said, his voice thick with affection for his brother who could be so damn smart, yet not be clued into the simplest of things. He was a guy who had stared down a demon, sold his soul for his brother, helped close the gates of Hell…..yet had no idea about one of the richest women in the world. " Dean, what I said back at the cemetery, about how it was my turn to save your ass for once? I meant what I said. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you and I will find a way to beat this deal. I'm not going to lose you, man."

" I know, Sammy. That's why I had to save you…." Dean said quietly, his gaze never leaving his brother's. In his mind, he could still hear Bobby raging at him, demanding to know if he was screwed in the head? But the simple truth to Dean was, he was nothing without his brother. " If there was anyone that could ever save me from myself…it's you, Sam. Cause you're just as stubborn as me." He smirked then, raising his eyebrows in almost a dare as Sam laughed softly and shook his head.

" Yeah…guess I am. Must be a Winchester thing." Sam nodded, raising his glass to his lips.

One year. Yeah…he could do it. He had to.

End…….


End file.
